This Mother's Solution Ch. 01

This Mother's Solution Ch. 1

The fire is ignited, an autobiographical account.

The format of this story is unlike most literotica.com works of fiction because it is autobiographical. It is my description of one facet of the relationship I have with my son, the most pertinent part having taken place in a little over a year's time.

One of the things that I agree with Tom Cruise and his Scientology friends about is their contention that psychiatry is a questionable science. However, there is one aspect of psychiatric practice that I believe has some merit and that involves patients telling their doctors about past occurrences that trouble them or, alternatively, things in their life that they think about compulsively. Usually these things involve something that can't comfortably be discussed with a friend or acquaintance. Some of the experiences I have had with my son fall in that category and for that reason I feel the need to tell someone about them. So, dear reader, to help me do that, for a short while I am asking you to be my substitute psychiatrist. Since people who frequent this web site are expecting what they read to have highly charged sexual content, I have made an effort to include as much of that type of thing as I can remember.

I'm sure that by now most of you are assuming that during the period I mentioned, my son and I had an incestuous relationship. While according to a clinical definition that may be true, it's probably not true in exactly the way you would expect. What happened between us is different from any of the stories I have read here but then again, since I haven't read them all, it's possible that what I'm about to tell you is not as unique as I think it is. It's possible but not likely.

I should also say something about the quotations I have included. Much of the following dialog I remember almost word for word. Other conversations I can only recall in bits and pieces and for a small percentage, I can't remember the words we used at all. Those parts have been created using my best effort to come up with what we most likely would have talked about. In all of these quotations, the substance is as accurate as I can make it..

For this article, I have decided to call myself Ellen. My son, who I will refer to as David, is my only child. After the youngest part of his childhood, he was raised according to the terms of a joint custody agreement between his father Jim (a fictitious name also) and I who divorced after 11 years of marriage. With variations having to do with weekends and vacations, the basic legal arrangement was that David lived with me during the months of the year when school was in session and he stayed with his father summers. After David reached 18 years of age, he could have lived where ever he wanted but for a while he decided to continue staying with me while he worked and attended a local community college.

Financially speaking, both mine and my ex-husband's households have always been relatively secure. For many years I have worked as a graphic arts designer for the local branch of a large advertising firm and Jim has been employed as an executive in the banking business. Jim remarried a few months after our divorce but in my case it was many years later. In the interim I dated occasionally but for a long time I didn't have any interest in remarrying.

My son David, who is 20 years old as this is being written, has always been athletically inclined and has a very muscular build. He is 6' 4" tall, has dark brown wavy hair that he keeps fairly short and blue-green eyes. He weighs approximately 215 pounds. He played several sports in high school and won letters in both basketball and baseball. As his mother, obviously my opinions are biased but I've always thought of him as being very handsome.

As for myself, presently I am 41. It's hard to be objective about yourself but I think most people would say that I'm moderately attractive. I'm 5' 7" tall and my hips are proportionally somewhat smaller than my bust. My measurements are 34-24-32 and I try to keep my weight under 130 pounds. My eyes are the same color as David's. When I was in high school, I was elected to three 'courts' but I wasn't lucky enough to have won any of them. Since then I have kept myself reasonably fit by always belonging to a health club. My best features are probably my face, which fortunately keeps me looking several years younger than I am, and my auburn colored hair, which I've always kept longer than shoulder length. Friends have told me that I somewhat resemble the actress Jill Clayburgh.

As a final note before I begin this, let me say that in order to conform with literotica's submission guidelines, I have changed certain details. However, those alterations don't affect anything that follows in a material way.

This all started one day at work when I took to feeling ill. As it happened, there was nothing much work related to do anyway so I decided to go home at lunch time and take the rest of the day off. When I walked in the door of our house, I could hear music blaring upstairs which told me that David was home too. Thinking that his dad had picked him up and driven them to an out-of-town baseball game that day, I went up to his room to ask him what was going on. When I got to the door of his bedroom, which was half open, what I saw caused me to freeze in place.

David was lying on top of his bed, totally naked, masturbating.

What's more, the circumstances surrounding what he was doing were even more surprising, something that didn't register with me until a short time later when the details of what I was seeing had a chance to sink in. He was lying with his head at the foot of the bed, so his eyes were directed away from where I was standing. The reason that he was in that position is that he was looking at a picture he had propped up on the headboard, just above his feet. The combination of his looking in that direction, plus the loudness of his stereo, meant that he didn't know I was there. As soon as I realized this, I backed away as quickly and as quietly as I could, turned around and tiptoed back downstairs. After thinking about it for no more than a few seconds, I left the house, got back in my car and drove away.

I was in a mental fog and I cruised around aimlessly. Eventually I ended up at the local equivalent of a Starbucks coffee shop. I spent much of the afternoon there, thinking about what I'd seen. Even though I'd never witnessed anything like that before, either with David or anyone else, I knew it was not unusual. Young boys do that kind of thing. That wasn't what was bothering me. The astonishing part was that I recognized the picture he was looking at while he was pleasuring himself. The reason I recognized it was that it was a picture of me!

I was familiar with this particular photograph because it was one of several that my ex-husband Jim had taken of me when we were first married. For as long as I've known Jim, he has been an amateur photographer and back then, aside from whatever other kinds of photography he did, he liked to make nude and semi-nude portraits of me. All of his photographs, many of which he printed in black and white and enlarged to 8" by 10" or bigger, were stored in cardboard boxes in the attic of our house. I assumed that when we divorced he had taken them all with him but apparently he hadn't. Upon reflection, it's logical to assume that he wouldn't have wanted to have nude photos of his first wife lying around for a girlfriend or future wife to stumble across.

Apparently, one day without my knowledge, David snooped around in the attic and found the boxes of photographs in question. It's not hard to guess why he extracted the particular print he brought down to his room. In it I am on my hands and knees with the camera pointed at me from a slightly elevated position. My head is tilted up so that my face is visible and I'm looking directly into the camera. My breasts are hanging down so that they appear to be somewhat larger than they would if I were sitting or standing up. Even though I'm totally nude, because of the lighting the picture doesn't show any visible detail below my waist. Of all of these photos that I remember, this was one of the sexier ones. On the surface, David's attraction to it was not hard to figure out. What was hard to figure out was why David would be sexually stimulated by a nude photograph of his mother. I would have thought he would have regarded it as something of a curiosity and put it back where he found it.

Alternatively, he could have chosen a picture of any sweet, young thing he wanted, with or without her clothes on, made a copy on his printer and put that up on his headboard instead. The internet is full of them and no one has ever restricted the web sites he can access. Instead, he chose a photograph of me. I was dumbfounded.

I thought about it for quite a while that day but I came to no conclusions. I was so discombobulated by what I had seen that whatever was making me feel under the weather earlier that day completely vanished. After I left the coffee shop, I drove around in my car some more and eventually drove home. I arrived at about the same time I would have, had I left from work. When I saw David, he told me that the trip to the baseball game had been cancelled because his father couldn't go. Supposedly Jim had some last minute emergency at work. I said nothing about what I had seen and outwardly, for the next few weeks, life went on pretty much the same way it always had. Inwardly, of course, nothing was the same.

I started looking at David in a whole different light. There is something about knowing that someone is sexually attracted to you, regardless of your relationship to that person, that changes everything. I couldn't get it out of my mind, going over and over again what I had seen him doing. After several days I began to think about David and I having some sort of sexual relationship. At night, lying in bed before going to sleep, I even started having the same kind of thoughts about him that he had apparently been having about me and I started doing the girl version of what he had been doing when I walked in on him. All sorts of wild sexual escapades between the two of us played through my mind. In the most obvious fantasy, of course, I replayed coming to his room the day I came home from work. This time, instead of turning away, I imagined 'surrendering myself to his desires', as they would say on a soap opera. Somehow, in my fantasy I wasn't wearing any panties so I pictured lifting up my skirt, straddling his body and lowering myself on his erection, all with his eager participation of course.

Probably my most frequently repeated fantasy involved the two of us going for a long hike in the woods. (The guys reading this probably won't find this one very stimulating but to me, it was always very erotic.) At one point while we are walking, we leave the trail looking for a viewpoint and happen upon an idyllic clearing, a place where no one would likely ever see us. After resting for a while, we decide to take off our clothes and bask in the warm afternoon sunshine. David undresses me slowly and lovingly and I do the same to him. We lie in the tall wild grass kissing and touching each other, getting closer and closer to making love but we never quite get there before these thoughts give me my orgasm.

In the light of the next day, I realized that this kind of thinking was ridiculous and I knew that I could never allow that kind of thing to happen. Normal mothers just don't do that with their sons. Nevertheless, I even started having daydreams about David while I was at work. I took to going to the women's room once or twice a day and relieving my sexual tensions while sitting in one of the stalls. I was wet all the time. It got so bad that I had to use panty liners to avoid the embarrassing possibility of something showing through.

After a few weeks like this, I realized that this preoccupation of mine just wasn't going to go away. In fact, if anything my erotic preoccupations was getting more frequent, more intense and more consuming. Certainly, we could never have actual sex but maybe there was some other solution to my problem. It can't have been more than a day or two later that I finally figured out what I would do.

One morning at breakfast I did the emotional equivalent of hitting David with a sledge hammer. As casually as if I was talking about the weather, I dropped my little bomb shell.

"Oh, by the way, David sweetheart, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"Yeah. . . what's that?"

"Remember that day a few weeks ago, when you and your dad were going to that baseball game. . . the one he backed out of?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you probably don't realize it but I came home around lunch time," I informed him.

"Really? You must not have stayed very long because I seem to remember you getting here at the same time you usually do."

"The reason I didn't stay at noon was that I came up to your room to talk to you and by accident I saw what you were doing."

"What I was doing? What do you mean, what I was doing?"

"You know. . . playing with yourself." Instantly, I saw his face turn red, very red in fact.

"Awww. . . jeeeze mom," and then he became speechless.

I let him suffer for a while and then I said, "There's nothing wrong with that, honey. It's perfectly normal. But what has me puzzled is that I also saw the picture you were looking at."

"Oh my God," he stammered back to me and buried his face in his hands.

"Is there anything you want to tell me about that?" I asked but he made no reply.

"Well then, let me say something. I know that you're probably thinking I'm pretty mad at you about that. And for a while, I was. Now that I've had a chance to think about it, though, I've changed my mind and actually I'm very complimented."

"You're kidding."

"No, really," I assured him. I waited for a while for him to say something more but he remained silent so I continued.

"Here's the thing: if you ever get the urge to look at me the next time you're doing that, don't feel like you have to drag out one of your dad's old pictures. All you have to do is ask and I'll be happy to take off my top and let you look at me in person." I was hoping that he would look up and talk to me but he didn't. He was still flushed and embarrassed.

"If you ever feel like talking about this, let me know," I said and I got up from the table and left the room, leaving David to regain his composure as best he could.

I didn't see him again until that evening and, even though nothing more was said about it, there was an obvious tension in the air. Our conversations were clipped and infrequent. I was dying to have him say something but I decided to let him be the one to bring it up, if he ever wanted to. I didn't want to force anything. I was secretly hoping that he would take me up on my offer but I had no idea if he would.

One day passed and nothing was said. Two days. Three days. I had just about given up and resigned to myself that the issue was dead when late one evening, while we were watching TV, totally out of the blue he said something.

"So, were you kidding the other morning when you said I could look at your. . .?" he asked, indicating my breasts by holding his cupped hands in front of his chest and moving them up and down slightly.

(In retrospect I remember that he was watching TV with this big decorator pillow on his lap. I noticed this because I didn't remember him ever doing that before. My guess is that he wasn't focused on the program we were watching. Instead he was working up the courage to ask me his question and he was, shall we say, suitably enlarged, something that would have been very humiliating to him had I noticed that and then turned him down.)

After a big pause I looked at him and I could see that he was squirming slightly with his eyes darting around, looking very nervous. I gave him my biggest smile and replied, "No, David, I wasn't kidding. Is that what you want?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

It felt like my heart was rising up in my throat and I had trouble making myself talk. I'm sure my pulse rate must have doubled.

"OK then. . . when would you like this to happen?" I asked.

"How bout right now?"

"That's fine with me," I said, "Why don't you give me a few minutes and I'll meet you in your room," and I went off to fix myself up.

By the time I got to my bedroom I was extremely agitated. I was breathing rapidly as if I had been running in a race. I kept telling myself that this was what I wanted. I was going to get to watch David do it to himself. I couldn't believe my good fortune. Somehow seeing him do that had become of momentous importance to me. I felt like I'd just won the lottery. I tried to focus on how I should dress but I couldn't seem to focus on anything. My mouth was dry and I couldn't make myself swallow.

I suppose I could have gone to him wearing what I already had on but I thought I should make myself a little more enticing so I started by combing my hair and putting on a touch of eyeliner. I applied a hint of this very pale lipstick that I use once in a while, trying to make it almost unnoticeable. I wanted to be as attractive to David as possible without being obvious. I kept on most of my underclothes but I took off my bra and put on this fluffy, white bathrobe I have. That was the sexiest way to dress for him I could think of.

When I got to his room, I tapped on the door and let myself in. I could see that he had gotten into bed. I couldn't tell if he still had any of his clothes on because the covers were pulled up so that only his head was sticking out. What he had been wearing was nowhere to be seen. His knees were bent up off the bed and the bedding was stretched between there and his chin.

"That looks real cozy," I said, "How come you're under the blankets?"

"I don't know. . . I just feel more comfortable doing it here."

I tried not to show it but I was crushed. More than anything I had counted on him being out in the open and now I was finding out that he didn't want to do it like that. It felt like we hadn't agreed on the same thing. On the chance I could get him to change his mind, I tried to prod him a little.

"You seemed to feel perfectly comfortable without any covers the last time I saw you doing it."

"Yeah, but I didn't know you were there."

"OK. . . well. . . if you're going to hide under there, I don't think I should open my robe either."

"Oh come on. . . you promised you would. . . that's not fair. I never said how I'd do it, did I?"

"Didn't you? Well . . . now that I think about it, I guess you didn't. . . I just assumed you'd do it the way I saw you."

While I tried to figure out what I should do, I could see that David was looking at me intently. His eyebrows were raised and he had a kind of smirk on his face like he was a little kid hoping that I would buy him a toy. Not wanting to disappoint him, I decided to go ahead and give him what he was hoping for.

"OK, I don't want to go back on my word so. . . are you ready?"

"Yes"

"Are you playing with yourself?" I asked and he nodded.

"Are you sure? I can't tell if you're doing anything." The way he was hidden made it impossible to tell what was going on underneath the covers.

"Well, I am," he said and as he spoke he lowered his knees. The fluffy comforter on top of his bedding made his motions indistinct but I could see some movement over his middle anyway.

"OK then," I said.

I loosened the tie on my robe and looking down as I did it, carefully opened the top a little ways so I was showing a lot of cleavage.

"I'll bet you like looking down girl's dresses, don't you."